Jeanne, surrounded on all sides, froze for a moment when she heard the gunfire. Lifting her gaze, she saw Rod standing at the edge of the dance floor, both pistols blazing. Each muzzle flash was followed by the clean headshot of another vampire.
In only a short time, the dance floor was covered in a thick layer of gray ash.
"Are those bullets blessed with holy water?" Jeanne murmured in surprise.
Ordinarily, conventional firearms were almost useless against vampires. Even the weakest among them were difficult to kill with ordinary ammunition. But once touched by holy water, even something as simple as a pencil could become lethal to them.
When the magazines in Rod's two Desert Eagles finally ran dry, the surviving vampires stared at him in horror.
In just a few seconds, nearly twenty of their companions had been wiped out, some even felled two at a time by a single penetrating shot.
"Don't panic! He's out of ammo, rush him!"
Several mid-tier vampires at the rear shouted the order viciously. The lesser vampires, unable to disobey, charged forward despite their fear.
But before they could close the distance, the pistols in Rod's hands vanished, only to reappear a moment later as if conjured by magic, freshly loaded. The barrage resumed, rapidly thinning the remaining vampires.
A few quick-witted ones dove behind cover, thinking themselves safe. Yet the incoming bullets seemed almost guided, curving around obstacles to pierce straight through their skulls.
[Gun Kata: By rapidly accelerating wrist vibrations, fired bullets can "bend" mid‑flight (theoretically).]
This peculiar skill had been one of Rod's earliest rewards from a routine mission long ago. It sounded absurd, and in practice looked even more so, but in a world where gods and demons existed, bullets that curved through the air were hardly the strangest thing imaginable.
After two more volleys, only a handful of vampires remained standing.
And those few were terrified out of their minds.
Even hiding behind pillars didn't save them, they were still getting headshot!
This guy's cheating!
While holy‑infused bullets were devastating against weaker vampires, they weren't especially effective against mid-tier or higher ones. In a supernatural world, the upper limit of ordinary firearms was simply too low. A mid-tier vampire with even a basic defensive shield could block most gunfire without blind spots.
"You monster!" one of the surviving vampires snarled, trembling with fear as he stared at Rod. In less than twenty seconds, Rod had slaughtered every subordinate they had built up over years.
Is this guy even human?
Since Rod had stepped in, Jeanne had stopped fighting, instead standing protectively in front of the surviving civilians while carefully observing him. Now that only a few leaders remained, she asked, "Need a hand?"
"No."
Rod returned the Desert Eagles to his storage space and drew the Nichirin Blade he had obtained from a previous mission.
"There are only two of them, attack together! Otherwise we all die here!" one vampire shouted, trying to suppress his terror.
The remaining three mid-tier vampires agreed, unleashing their abilities and revealing their feral, clawed forms.
"RAAAH!"
The one who had shouted earlier lunged forward, moving so fast he left an afterimage behind.
Compared with many other races, vampires generally possessed stronger physical bodies than demons, though they lagged behind in magical ability. The downside of such powerful physiques, of course, was their vulnerability to sunlight. Lesser vampires couldn't withstand direct sunlight at all; mid-tier vampires developed some resistance but would still perish with prolonged exposure, while high-tier vampires could survive sunlight yet would be severely weakened by it.
"You take the left, I'll take the right! Surround him!" the charging vampire yelled.
But when he reached his designated position, he realized something was wrong. There was no one beside him.
Turning around, he saw his three supposed allies sprinting straight toward the bar's kitchen exit, heading for the back door.
"Damn you traitors!"
Fury and despair mixed in his eyes. When he looked back and saw Rod calmly smiling at him, his legs gave out. He slid to his knees in front of Rod.
"Let's make a deal, how about you don't kill me?"
Rod replied simply, "Sure."
The blade flashed.
Rod's sword fell without hesitation, severing the vampire's head in a single stroke. Blood sprayed nearly three meters into the air, though Rod had already stepped aside. He then turned his gaze toward the kitchen entrance.
The three fleeing vampires were almost at the door. Their plan was simple: escape into a crowded area. No matter how strong an exorcist was, he wouldn't dare attack openly in front of large crowds. As for what happened afterward, survival came first.
[Clock Up]
Rod entered a hyper‑accelerated state. To his eyes, the world slowed to a crawl, the blood spraying from the decapitated vampire's body floated through the air in eerie slow motion, while the corpse itself gradually disintegrated into ash, almost beautiful in its strange stillness.
He strolled casually to the three escaping vampires and then canceled the acceleration.
When they suddenly realized Rod had appeared beside them, their souls nearly fled their bodies.
"Stay back! Don't come any closer!"
Huddled in the corner, they trembled violently, panic shattering their composure.
"I've got an eighty‑year‑old mother at home-"
Slash.
A streak of cold light ended their pleas before they could finish. The Nichirin Blade reduced them to ash without even giving them time to scream.
[Mission "Night Visit: Vampires" Completed]
[Reward Obtained: Sacred Gear , Dragon Hand ×1]
[Dragon Hand: When activated, triples the user's physical strength. The higher the user's base strength, the smaller the proportional increase.]
"Hmm. Not particularly useful," Rod clicked his tongue.
Though labeled a Sacred Gear, the enhancement was limited. With his current strength, the boost wasn't especially meaningful, hardly worth getting excited about. Still, considering the enemies had only been minor vampire grunts, receiving anything extraordinary would have been unrealistic. Underwhelming rewards were, frankly, Rod's usual luck.
Returning to the dance floor, he saw the surviving civilians still clustered around Jeanne, too shaken to leave. Tonight's events had left deep scars on their minds, they had come seeking entertainment, not to become the entertainment themselves. What they had witnessed would likely take a lifetime to forget.
As Rod approached, Jeanne sprang lightly out of the crowd, landing in front of him. Her bright eyes locked onto his figure.
It seemed the intelligence reports they had received about him… might have been wrong after all.
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200 P.S / 1 Extra Chapters
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